


Tales to Tell in the Storm

by ThefirstRanger



Category: The Brotherband Chronicles - John Flanagan
Genre: Brotherband au, Gen, Original Character(s), Supernatural Elements, The Herons are only mentioned... or are they?, vague death mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-01-17 09:30:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21264953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThefirstRanger/pseuds/ThefirstRanger
Summary: A couple of drabbles and short stories with the Herons encountering supernatural elements and magic.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	1. The Ghost Ship

The Andomal was never recovered. The Herons never came back. They tried, Gorlog knows they tried, but they never returned. No one in Skandia ever figured out what happened to the young crew. It was a frequent topic among the fishmongers and raiders; what happened to the bright and promising brotherband who had lost Skandia’s greatest treasure. Without the Andomal, Hallasholm never was the same. More accidents happened, never fatal but they were an inconvenience. More raiders fell victim to injuries on raids and storms became more common after the Andomal was gone. Even people who had always seemed to have the protection of the ocean were not immune to the streak of misfortune coursing through Hallasholm. No one had ever experienced life without the Andomal's protection and as people shivered in their creaking huts, the wind howling outside, they understood why the Andomal was so important. The veil between worlds wasn't gone, but people regularly swore that they saw something that looked like a vampire and monsters were often rumored to be seen in the ocean and forest. 

More than goblins or vampires, people reported seeing ships on the horizon, ships that weren't quite... right. They glowed almost imperceptibly and made no sound as they glided across the waves. They were seen only at night, blurry, howling nights where the Andomal was needed most. The ships never got close enough for the wolfships to approach them, but Skandians would see the ships and get a feeling, would remember old accidents of years gone by and shiver. An old friend of Thorn’s recalled the trip where Thorn lost his hand and the friend swore he could feel the phantom feeling of pain in his hand. It wasn’t uncommon to see visions of old shipmates wrapped in seaweed emerge from the water. One ship in particular was seen often, more than any other ship. It was a particular ship, with triangular sails instead of the normal square ones. It had a small crew and the oddest weapon on the side. If one listened close enough, they could almost hear the release of the weapon and the sound of a ship sinking. 

Erak was the first one to see the ship one night as he was on watch duty. He nearly fell into the sea when he saw the ship in the distance. He rubbed his eyes. It couldn't be... could it? The Heron brotherband was his biggest regret. That crew had been some of the most promising recruits Skandia had seen in a long time and Erak banished them, sending them to their deaths. They were sixteen years old for Gorlog’s sake. No one had heard from the Herons in over two years. Being banished, of course, they weren't supposed to have contact with anyone in Hallasholm, but Erak had expected some notes from the boys to their parents. Instead, the opposite happened. Karina came pounding on Erak's door one night a year ago, distraught and furious like the storm that night. She screamed at him and said she had seen the deaths of the Herons. It was all Erak's fault. As Karina screamed into the night, Erak wondered if she might be right. The next night, Hannah came to Erak’s door and recounted her dream of herons being slaughtered. Hannah was more composed but no less wavering in her conviction of the truth of her dream. The next night, Erak saw the ghost ship of the boys he had sent to their deaths. He would see them every night for the rest of his life, whether on the sea or in his dreams. 

Whenever the ghost ship appeared, the storms increased and the wailing of the wind picked up. It was like nature was getting her revenge. Some people, including Erak though he would never admit it, thought it was the Heron brotherband taking their revenge. Despite the storm, the ghostly boat always held steady. Some Skandians swear that they saw it fly in the sky once, like a great sea bird. The ship disappears with the dawn and the storms disappear for now.

Oddly enough, there are always lots of herons flying around Hallasholm before and after these nights. Soon, herons became a symbol of both an incoming storm and the calm after a storm. The herons always seem to perch around Karina’s eatery and hop around, never getting close to anyone. It always baffles everyone who sees them as herons never normally get this close to houses that were so far from the water. They seem to like Karina, who has aged more than she should in the past years, and will let the little children in the village observe them. There’s one heron that is much bigger than the others but keeps bumping into things, an older heron that is missing a leg, two herons that look exactly alike, and one heron that can mimic any bird sound it hears among several others. The ghosts and the herons are never seen at the same time.

It’s these birds, years later, that inspire a brotherband to name themselves the Herons despite the warnings of everyone around them. The local herons around Hallasholm are so calm and bring luck, we have to honor them argues the skirl. Erak, still Oberjarl at this point, shakes his head and allows them, too tired to argue. The herons flock to the competition to watch their namesake brotherband compete. 

The new Herons don’t win the competition, not that it matters much. It’s only bragging rights, no guarding of the Andomal that is not there anymore. Even going to the memorial where the Andomal was is too dangerous- too many sightings of shadows and monsters. The storms still continue and continue until one day, months after the new Heron brotherband had taken a trip together, the Grey Bird pulls into harbor. The clouds lessen and don’t clear until the brotherband solemnly carries a shrouded object to the memorial spot and unveil the Andomal. For the first time in decades, the Andomal is back in Hallasholm. The storms stop and there are no more sightings of monsters and ghosts. Karina and Hannah embrace each other and weep. The cursed, blessed object was back and they felt some semblance of peace for the first time since their sons had sailed off. Later that night, Erak had the first peaceful night’s sleep since he could remember. He saw no ghosts in his dreams. The herons disappear around Hallasholm. People are disappointed, but the Heron brotherband is glad to see them go. They out of all people come the closest to knowing the truth.

No one outside of the Herons are sure how exactly the Andomal was found. They never said a word. It was too much to tell, it had cost too much. They had lost Skuti on the voyage. Hallfred, the skirl, was notoriously tight-lipped, but his grandchildren heard the story of how the Andomal was recovered once when Hallfred was morose and drunk. He spoke of ghosts, and birds, herons really, leading them, and most importantly, he spoke of the sacrifices needed. Hallfred is bitter, but not regretful and not as drunk as they think he is. His crew saved Skandia from a slow, dark decline, but at a terrible cost. His grandchildren are spooked at this tale and he never speaks of it again. 

The Andomal stays in Skandia for hundreds of years after, protecting the people from ghosts and monsters and storms. On certain nights, when the moon is full and the air is murky, people can swear that they see a ghostly crew of young warriors around the Andomal, just watching and waiting. They will never let the Andomal go again.


	2. Revenge is Best Served Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia is in the Skandian underworld and two gods are arguing over what is going to happen to her. It's her choice- but should she choose rest or should she choose revenge against the Sharks?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's vague mentions of violence, but other than that, I think it is fine. It's Lydia centric, so the rest of the Herons don't really show up for this story.

Lydia is the last of the Herons to hold out against the Sharks and their cowardly ambush. She's at her peak, slinging darts and holding her own. The Sharks, lead by Tursgurd, the coward, killed everyone else before advancing for Lydia. Lydia had never hated anyone more than Tursgurd than in that moment. She would do anything for revenge. Her family was murdered and by an old childhood bully who couldn’t let past slights go. Lydia is smart and takes down as many as she can, but Pedra gets a lucky shot in and she goes down. Lydia wakes up in a strange place, grey and misty. It smells vaguely like the ocean and she swears she can see a bright mead hall in the distance. She starts walking and sees two figures arguing. A man and a woman. 

Lydia draws closer to the pair and they spare her one glance before continuing their argument. The man was clad in typical hunter's garb, not unlike what Lydia was wearing herself. His dark hair was tied back and he seemed to melt into the shadows around him.

"She'll go with me, Hulde. There's no question about that." Hulde, that name rang a bell for Lydia, but she couldn't place it. 

"She's in my realm with no charm. Unless you want to try to claim her and test me," The woman, Hulde apparently, sounded calm but there was an undercurrent of sharpness in her voice. “We both know you cannot beat me Ullr.” 

The woman turned to face Lydia and Lydia almost took a step back. Half of the woman’s face was pale and the other half of her face was a mottled black and blue. Recognition flashed on Lydia’s face. She had heard of a woman associated with death and remembered Edvin telling her how he wore a charm to protect against Hulde, the goddess of death. She also recognized the name Ullr. It was the name Thorn always muttered when he killed a deer and it was the name that the women in the market always thanked when Lydia came back with meat. He was the Skandian god of hunters. Wait, if Ullr and Hulde, the goddess of death, were here with Lydia, did that mean...

Hulde seemed to know what Lydia was thinking and smiled, cold yet comforting. “Yes, Lydia. You are dead.” If Lydia hadn’t known deep down, she would have been shocked. Hulde continued as Ullr glared at her. 

“Tursgurd and his sharks killed you, the last Heron,” The mention of the Herons hurt Lydia. Their deaths were too soon. “Normally, since you died in battle with a weapon in hand, you would join my glorious mead hall and see your friends again.” There was silence for a minute. 

“But I’m not Skandian,” protested Lydia. “I don’t even believe in you.” 

Ullr and Hulde exchanged amused glances. “It’s not a matter of you believing in us, it’s a matter of us believing in you.” said Ullr, like to a child.

“You risked your life to save Skandia many times over. You have shed blood for Skandia and helped bring back our most important treasure. You are the best Skandia has to offer, we have always kept an eye on you, and yet you were cut down at your peak.” Hulde’s face grew dark, shadows in her eyes. “In normal circumstances, you would join my hall and live the rest of eternity in here with the dead, but Ullr stepped in.” 

Lydia felt a glimmer of hope. “You’re going to let me live again?” Maybe she could get her revenge on the Sharks then. 

A hearty chuckle escaped Ullr’s lips. 

“No child,” said Hulde. “Ullr wants you to be one of his hunters.” Lydia was not expecting that.

“You’ll spend eternity with me, hunting animals in forests and monsters in other realms. You would be invincible.” 

A scowl darkened Lydia’s face. “There’s only one monster I want to hunt. After that, I want to rest.” All she really wanted was to forget her pain, to feel happy again. 

Ullr leaned forward eagerly. He loved any type of hunt and revenge, especially the way Lydia would enact it, was one big hunt. “I can arrange that. It won’t be easy for you but it will be the most satisfying thing you’ll ever do. And then you can continue to hunt the Sharks again and again for eternity. Your skills are unrivaled, you would become a legend.” Right now, hunting the Sharks sounded like it would make her happy. She would get revenge for her brothers in arms. 

Hulde protested. “You do not have the power to do that Ullr! But if the girl wants to hunt her prey and make her decision after that, I have no objection. I know your ways Ullr and I know Lydia all too well.”

Ullr grinned, a grin that promised blood revenge, and the thrill of the hunt. “Deal.”

Instantly, Lydia was transported back into the forest near Hallasholm. She flexed her hands, getting a feel for them again. Her atlatl, well worn and loved, was at her side again. It had been smashed in the fight against the Sharks, but it seemed that Hulde or Ullr, she didn't care who, had restored it. 

The air was filled with more sounds and scents than Lydia had ever experienced and she took it all in, realizing that this is how she would feel the rest of the days hunting with Ullr and his hunters. 

The Sharks were easy to track down, drunk with overconfidence from their false victory and drunk in bars. Lydia relished the fright in their eyes as they saw the ghost of the last Heron approach to take her revenge. Pedra, Knut, all of them fell until Tursgurd was left. Lydia showed no mercy to the murderers of the Herons. She didn’t kill them, but she put fear in their bones and left them to face justice, a slow death.

Out of all the Sharks, Tursgurd had the sense to leave Skandia and keep a low profile. He was no match for Lydia however. She found him in a tiny, trashy bar bragging about his accomplishments to a band of pirates. It figures that Tursgurd would keep company with criminals. Lydia smiled to herself as she thought about how her mission would finally be complete and the Herons would be avenged. Hal, Stig, Thorn, Edvin, Stefan, Jesper, Ulf and Wulf, and sweet Ingvar. The other punishments were out of Lydia’s hands, but Tursgurd’s was going to personal. Lydia would show him no mercy. 

Lydia didn’t want anyone to see her so she waited until Tursgurd was alone. As she crouched on the roof in the shadows above the bar, her normally focused mind wandered. The stars reminded her of Edvin. One night while they were on watch together, Edvin had showed Lydia all the Skandian constellations and which ones were used for navigation. In turn, Lydia had told Edvin of the Limmat stories about the stars. Edvin had always been so curious and willing to learn, it made Lydia’s heart hurt whenever she thought about him. 

All of the Herons held a special place in Lydia’s heart. How could they not? They had saved her life in so many ways countless times. They had embraced her and given her a new family. Hal had given her purpose, Thorn had given her a reason to keep her wits about her, and Ingvar had given her a reason to keep hope alive. 

Movement below stirred Lydia from her thoughts. Tursgurd was on the move. A deadly smile spread across Lydia’s face. It was time for the hunt. She wasn’t used to hunting in a city, but Lydia would do her best. 

Tursgurd staggered through the streets, pausing only to stumble into an alley. Lydia ran across the rooftops of the dingy town, barely making a sound. Her padded soles fit perfectly to the nooks and crannies; everyone of her senses was fired up. The perfect hunter hunting the perfect prey. 

Vomited splashed onto the stone street and Lydia felt a flicker of disgust run through her. It had been so long since she had felt anything since accepting Ullr’s offer. The brief sentimental thought here and there, but hunting down the Sharks left no space in her mind for memories. 

Lydia pushed herself off of the roof and landed silently behind Tursgurd who was crouching on his knees. As she raised her atlatl, the ghost of Ingvar flashed in front of her eyes. The shock was enough to make Lydia take a step back. Tursgurd was still puking his guts out. If Lydia could have felt anything, it would have been some perverse form of pity for Tursgurd. The way he was drinking and the company he was keeping, he wouldn’t last long. Good, thought Lydia viciously. The rest of the Herons appeared in her vision, silent and judging only for a moment before disappearing. She knew what she had to do.

Shaking her head, Lydia took a step forward and stopped. What was she doing? Suddenly Lydia tired, more tired than she had ever been in her life. She could feel it in her bones. She was tired of the endless hunt and she was tired of revenge. Revenge felt good at first, Lydia could never deny that, but it took its toll. Lydia hadn’t felt anything for ages and she had become what she hated in life- someone who abused their power. Someone like Tursgurd. 

Tursgurd still hadn’t noticed Lydia, not that she had expected him to. She let out a dark chuckle, which made Tursgurd whirl around. 

“Who's there?" demand Tursgurd roughly. Lydia stepped forward, keeping in the shadows. It was time. Time for the Herons to be avenged. 

Tursgurd was still wildly looking around. As Lydia stepped silently into the weak light, Tursgurd scrambled back. 

“No! No, you’re- you’re dead.” The fear in Tursgurd eyes would have been more satisfying if it wasn’t overwhelmed by a drunken glaze. 

“Herons always come back, Tursgurd. Didn’t you know?” Lydia leaned forward ever so slightly, half her face covered by black and blue shadows. “I will always haunt you. The Herons will always haunt you. Sharks can’t swim backwards, but you will never escape the past.” 

Tursgurd had an angry look in his eyes and tried to land a clumsy, weak punch on Lydia. She easily side stepped him and pushed him to the ground. He landed with a hard crack and stayed there, cowering. Tursgurd had never been superstitious, but the ghost of the girl he had killed was in front of him and one could not deny what is in front of their eyes. Lydia stalked over to him silently, a hunter over her prey.

“I’m not going to kill you Tursgurd. You’re doing a fine enough job of that on your own. I’m here to let you know that I could kill you, but I won’t. A mercy you didn’t give us.” Tursgurd started to protest, but Lydia was in no mood to hear it. She used her atlatl like a club and Tursgurd was out cold. Someone would find him in the morning and drag him out. Hopefully he would remember the night. If not, she had a feeling that Tursgurd would never have a good night’s rest again. Ullr had a strange sense of humor and liked to play with his prey. Lydia felt it was unprofessional, she preferred a quick end to her hunts, but in this case, she didn’t care.

Suddenly, Lydia felt overwhelmingly exhausted. She was done with her final hunt. It hadn’t helped her like she thought it would. The only thing that had made her feel better was the sense of approval she felt when she let Tursgurd go. It was a very Hal thing of her to do. It was almost like he was watching her.

The shadows thickened around Lydia and in an instant, she was transported back to Hulde’s realm. 

Only Hulde was standing in the shadows. Ullr was nowhere in sight. 

“Have you made your choice Lydia?” asked Hulde, like she already knew the answer. Lydia did know her answer. She supposed that she had always known her answer deep down. Rage couldn’t fill her and it wouldn’t bring her family back. Lydia made her choice.

Lydia nodded and Hulde stepped forward to guide Lydia forward. 

“Come, child. Your friends are waiting for you.” 

Hulde and Lydia started walking towards the mead hall glowing in the distance. They walked in silence until they approached the doors. At the closed doors, strong and imposing, Lydia looked up at Hulde. 

“Was I-” Lydia trailed off. She didn’t want to know the answer. Hulde knew what Lydia was trying to say. 

“You weren’t the only one who had a challenge. You were the only one who Ullr chose. Your friends had,” Hulde paused here. “Your friends had other things to do.” 

Lydia could feel the sense of belonging deep in her bones, but she was hesitant. 

Hulde’s tone was gentle. “Go, your family is waiting.” At this Hulde disappeared, leaving Lydia alone. Thoughts were swirling in Lydia’s head and all she could think about was how this was what felt right, despite her disbelief. 

So Lydia turned and pushed open the doors, walking into the hall, ready to see her family again.


	3. The Battered Shield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stig's been cursed with a bear-like madness all his life. Beserkers aren't exactly welcome in Hallasholm and the Herons find out.

Stig had always felt a madness deep inside him, waiting to be unleashed. It was always fighting to get out and Stig never knew what it was. He assumed that all Skandians had this feeling inside of them and when he made an innocent remark about it to his best friend at the age of 14, Hal gave him a confused look like he had no idea what Stig was talking about. It was at that moment when Stig realized he was different. Of course, young Stig reasoned, it could be Hal who was different from everyone else. But Stig knew that wasn't right. 

His mom had always tried to help him as best she could, teaching tricks to calm down and tips to let out his anger. Hannah told him that she knew that Stig was blessed by Gorlog because she had seen a bear the day Stig was born and she had prayed over him. She says that is what makes him so special, with the madness. Stig sometimes wishes his mother hadn’t asked Gorlog for his blessing for him. It’s an unspoken sentiment between mother and son that Hannah asked for Gorlog’s blessing so Stig wouldn’t turn out like his father. The tricks worked to an extent and Stig thought that would be the end of that. He would just be careful to never let the madness out and to never hurt anyone in case he slipped. 

There were times when the madness came out or at least came close to coming out. It was always in battle and Stig fought to keep it within him. He knew that he was already a fearsome enemy on the battlefield and letting loose the madness within would just be horrifying. If he let it loose, Stig could slip up and lose control to the madness. Losing control would mean irreversible consequences. 

As Stig grew up, he heard whispers, rumors really, of Skandians succumbing to the madness within them in battle. The elders called them ‘beserkers’ and talked in hushed tones about a former oberjarl who died in a beserker rage. The tales weren’t pretty. They told of fearsome warriors, almost animal like in battle, who slew all their enemies and if they couldn’t snap out of he rage in time, slaughtered their friends. As soon as Stig heard these tales, he know that same madness that was in the beserkers and the former oberjarl was in him. 

Stig never tells anyone. How could he? He’s already scorned around the village for having no father and his mam's laundry business. And it’s not like the Skandian people like the so called beserkers. Sure, they’re handy in battle- up until a point. Then good Skandians and friends start to die and people start to distrust them. No, it was easier to push the madness deep down in him so it would never come out. But it did and after it did, Stig could never keep the madness down. 

He first feels the madness rumbling deep within him whenever he faces Zavac in battle. The pirate ruined so many people’s lives and stole the Andomal. No one would be able to fault him if he lost control. 

Stig loses control in the final battle against Zavac. He can’t help it. The rage within him overwhelms his senses and he doesn’t remember anything concrete for the next few minutes. All Stig can feel is rage and he can sense the presence of Gorlog the Bear in his mind.

It’s all flashes, blurred together. Pierced by red and the sharp tangy smell of blood, Stig comes to his senses. He opens his eyes to see bodies of pirates all around him and the Herons surrounding him with their weapons up. The Herons won, in no small part to Stig. Stig feels horrible. He wants to throw up over all the gore- he’s still just a kid- and all he feels is shame. His secret is out. He’ll be scorned all over Hallasholm and Hannah will have no one left. Beserkers aren’t welcome in Skandia.

There’s no disgust in their eyes as the Herons stand there, looking at their friend. They all understood what they saw, but it’s Stig. They could no more abandon him than they could grow gills and swim. 

Hal steps forward and Stig thinks it’s over, but Hal only speaks. “Let’s get you cleaned up buddy.” and Stig is too tired and worked up to protest when Ingvar and Thorn lead him to the Heron and help him splash water on himself. He doesn’t protest when Thorn pushes him towards his cot and tosses a blanket at him. It’s been a long day and Stig falls asleep instantly. Kloof is left to keep watch over him; they know Stig won’t do anything but it’s better to be safe than sorry. 

A meeting called that night, there’s much that needs to be talked about. The Andomal, the return home, and… Stig. 

No one wants to speak first, Thorn looks pensive, Hal’s deep in his head, and Jesper is just the tiniest bit on edge. Stefan, surprisingly, breaks the silence. 

“We aren’t going to tell anyone.” No one disagrees with him. There’s the unspoken understanding that even if they brought back the Andomal, having a beserker in their brotherband could get them exiled again in an instant. But it’s Stig. There’s nothing they wouldn’t do for him. They would risk their home and lives for him. A plan is made. 

In the morning Stig wakes up and it’s as if nothing has changed; except for the feeling of blood beneath his fingertips. Birds are flying in the sky above them and the waves are gentle. Stig wants to puke again. Why are his friends acting like nothing happened? He grips the wooden side of the Heron and the rough wood feels solid, like a promise. It comforts his troubled mind. A presence is felt behind him and something in Stig’s mind flares up before he sees it’s Edvin. It’s not who Stig was expecting- Hal was still at the rudder- but he feels grateful nonetheless. Edvin always had a comforting air about him. 

The two men, they certainly weren’t boys anymore not with all they had been through, stood in silence. Edvin seemed in no hurry to leave Stig’s presence and Stig felt himself relaxing. Maybe things would turn out all right. 

And things did turn out all right, at least for a little while. They brought back the Andomal and were welcomed back to Hallasholm. Stig’s beserker rages weren’t brought up outside of the brotherband and everything was fine. Years passed and Stig thought the madness in him had subsided. He supposed it had until Tecumseh died. 

He can't remember anything from that battle, not even flashes or red streaks. There's just… nothing. Stig's sure if he really concentrated, he could remember, but he doesn't want to. All he remembers is being wrestled to the ground by who knows how many figures and he remembers a shield shoved in his face and the overwhelming urge to chew it. 

Stig wakes up on the Heron floating on the open ocean and he weeps. The grief is too much; he could drown in it. Tecumseh, the men he killed, everything. But he doesn't; his friends anchor him. No one else ever knows the truth and Stig never goes beserk again. There are times where he's oh so close, the red begins encroaching on his vision, but somehow Ingvar always knows and is always there to subdue him with a battered and chewed shield. He never knows how to thank his friends, but they require no thanks.

When Stig dies, all the Herons mourn for it was too soon, but he lived a good long life. He didn't succumb to the madness in the end and they lay him to rest at sea with his great sword and odd shield on his chest. The Herons wail and commemorate and whenever they see a bear that roams just a bit too close to Hallasholm, they are never afraid. It is their friend come to see them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, this one was sad to write.

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up differently than I imagined it, but I still like it. I think I'll be trying to do a series where each of the Herons encounters a supernatural figure or one of the Skandian gods. I'm still trying to figure it out


End file.
